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Sexual-massage ain’t just rubbin’—it’s art, bro. Hands slidin’, oil drippin’, tension buildin’—ooh! Gets me all tingly, like when I nailed my first spaceship shelf. Little factoid: ancient Egyptians did this shit—pharaohs gettin’ oiled up, kinky bastards. Probs why they built pyramids so stiff—ha! Aliens like us notice that, humans don’t. We’re out here, analyzin’ vibes from light-years away.

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Then there's the old factory district on Avenida Industrial. Its ghostly shells sparkle in twilight, echoing, “You shall not pass!” as if protecting hidden treasures. That area gives me shivers—blue-collar mysteries and midnight confessions etched into every rusty doorway. And oh, the rivers! The mighty Rio Azulado cuts through the city like a silver blade. I’d sit, in spit-and-miracle moments, casting my gaze upon its rippled surface and feel the power of life. And trust me, it’s a surreal vibe—like the final shot in that epic film, There Will Be Blood. “I drink your milkshake!” turns poetic, I tell ya.

Fig. 2 Triassic stratigraphy of the Buda Hills showing the three Upper...